


Pretending to be Human

by mysid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humor, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:24:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9140905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysid/pseuds/mysid
Summary: If Remus was to succeed at keeping his secret from his fellow Hogwarts students, he had to pretend to be a normal human boy.  But what was normal?





	

**Author's Note:**

> A plotbunny hopped up to me and asked, "Why is Remus such a chocoholic in fanfiction? He never eats it in canon." I told the bunny that he was absolutely right. Remus merely has chocolate available on occasions when students are likely to encounter Dementors and require its medicinal properties. “Be prepared” is just as apt a motto for DADA professors as it is for Boy Scouts. (Peter, on the other hand— Ron tells us that Scabbers loves Fudge Flies.)
> 
> Which is not to imply that I _dislike_ chocoholic-Remus. I love the stuff, so I find it believable that Remus might too. I simply thought it high time to write a story in which he doesn't care for it.
> 
> Remus, his friends, and their world all belong to J. K. Rowling.

**Pretending to be Human**

Remus sometimes wished he had a handbook which told him exactly which aspects of himself were due to being a werewolf—and by omission, which were just personal quirks. He had read everything he could, of course, but the vast majority of books and articles simply told him the obvious, “Turns into a savage, bloodthirsty beast on the nights of the full moon,” or the untrue, “Is filled with a murderous rage at all times.” But he had no guide for the more subtle clues of his inner nature. For example, nothing told him if all werewolves preferred meat medium-rare—perhaps a bit closer to rare—or if that was just because he was Remus. 

Remus knew that most werewolves probably didn’t face this sort of confusion. By the time they’d been bitten, they’d had many years to learn who they were. Any changes which took place soon after they were bitten were blamed upon becoming a werewolf; whatever did not change were the remnants of being human. Remus, on the other hand, had been very young when he was bitten—so young that he barely remembered a “before.” 

Occasionally, this did pose a problem. If Remus was to succeed at keeping his secret from his fellow Hogwarts students, he had to pretend to be a normal human boy. But what was normal? Was his sense of smell better than others? He didn’t dare comment on the delicious aromas coming from the Great Hall unless someone else did first. Was he quicker to anger than others? He tried to go so far in the other direction that Sirius called him a “doormat” in disgust.

He tried to judge himself against others to get clues as to what was normal and expected. Unfortunately, this, his first year at Hogwarts, was his first real opportunity to compare himself to other children. He had lived a rather solitary life with his parents, and for many years had only had them to compare against. This had not been an infallible method. 

For example, both of his parents loved Brussels sprouts; Remus detested them. He concluded that humans like Brussels sprouts, werewolves did not. At the Welcoming Feast at Hogwarts, Remus had dutifully served himself Brussels sprouts and choked down several bites. When they were next served a week later, Remus had been less nervous and observed that only a third of his fellow students seemed to like the tiny cabbages. He resolved never to eat them again.

Remus also disliked sweets in general, and chocolate in particular. There was something about the way the mud-brown stuff coated his tongue that was particularly unpleasant. (The only food which could be worse would be chocolate-covered Brussels sprouts.) Observation of his fellow Gryffindors indicated that he was the only one with this particular dislike. Some seemed to enjoy chocolate more that others—Peter and a few of the girls couldn’t get enough of the stuff—but every one of them seemed to enjoy it at least occasionally.

Remus could only conclude that his dislike was indeed “a wolf thing.” Real wolves didn’t eat sweet foods; werewolves disliked them. And so, Remus tried to hide this abnormal quirk. On two occasions when James received sweets from home and offered them round, Remus had accepted a non-chocolate piece and left the rest for the others to eat. When Peter once offered Fudge Flies he’d got from home, Remus had said, “Thanks, Peter, but I know how much you like them.” Peter had smiled gratefully and not pressed the issue.

It was harder to refuse subtly on the train back to Hogwarts after Christmas. When the refreshment trolley had come by their train compartment, James and Sirius had seemingly bought out half the cart. Gifts of spending money had been burning holes in their pockets. When Remus and Peter had protested their friends' largesse, they were told to consider it a belated Christmas gift. 

“Fudge Flies for Peter,” Sirius said as fell into the seat beside the sweets and tossed a package of the enchanted chocolates to Peter. “What do you want, Remus?”

“I—uh—I’m not all that hungry right now,” Remus said. “You know, big breakfast and all.”

Sirius was not to be deterred so easily. “Since when did anyone need to be hungry to eat sweets? What kind do you want?” he asked as he held out a Chocolate Frog.

Remus knew he had to accept something; refusal would mark him as different. The best he could do was to choose something other than the detested chocolate. He smiled his thanks and looked at the brightly coloured mound between Sirius and James. “Uh—some Every Flavour Beans, I guess.” Perhaps he’d get lucky and eat some flavours he actually liked; roast beef would be nice.

“Ooh, Remus wants to be daring today,” James teased as he fished out the partially buried box from the pile and tossed and it over. “Just remember, it’s cheating to spit them out.” 

Remus poured a few beans into his hand and eyed them doubtfully. One was the exact colour of chocolate and the others were suspicious shades of grey and green. Laughter suddenly filled the compartment. Remus looked up to see Sirius’s Chocolate Frog on James’s forehead, long rear legs trying to gain a foothold on the frames of James’s glasses, but slipping into his eyes instead. Remus laughed at the sight—and put the handful of beans into his pocket while no one else was watching.

* * * * *

“They just kept giving us more and more food. ‘Would Sir like more cake? Would Sir prefer tarts?’” James enthused as he led the way to the hidden entrance to the Hogwarts kitchens. 

“We know; we know; you told us last night,” Sirius pointed out. “The least you could have done was bring some back for us.”

James ignored him. “I could _kiss_ my cousin for showing me how to get in the kitchens.”

“I doubt he’d like that,” Sirius said. “The question is, can _you_ remember how to get there to show us?” 

“Of course I can; we’re almost there.” James was now leading his three dorm mates through the labyrinthine corridors of the castle in an attempt to share with them the glories of a kitchen full of delicious food and overly-helpful house elves. James’s older cousin Stephen, a sixth-year, had passed on the secret just the evening before. 

Remus suspected that James wasn’t as certain of the way as he pretended to be. They hadn’t needed to double back yet, or walked through any corridors twice, but as they passed the intersection with a short corridor, Remus spotted at the far end a painting of a picnic that they had walked past several minutes ago.

“If we don’t find it soon, we’d better head back. We don’t want to be caught out after curfew,” he said.

“We’ll find—” James said with a glance over his shoulder at Remus. He stopped short and grinned at the sight of something behind Remus. “I remember the shield that suit of armour is holding. I saw it just after we left the kitchen. The painting must be around the next corner.”

With renewed enthusiasm, the four boys hurried off in search of their goal, a large still life of a bowl of fruit. 

“That’s it!” James exclaimed—quietly. It wouldn’t do to get within sight of the entrance and then attract Filch’s attention. James rushed up to the enormous painting, waited a dramatic pause to ensure that he had everyone’s full attention, and reached for the pear. “Just tickle the pear—” the pear began to squirm under his fingers and then bulged out, “—and it’ll become a doorknob.” James twisted the pear-doorknob, and the painting swung open to reveal the hidden doorway. James held the painting open and bowed his friends in with a flourish of an imaginary cap.

Sirius led the way. “Excellent butler, that Potter,” he said in deep mock-adult voice. “It is so hard to find and keep good help. I may have to give him a raise.”

Remus suddenly found himself surrounded by several short pointy-eared beings. Hands clutched at his sleeves pulling him farther into the kitchen and onto a bench at a carved oak table. So many spoke at once that he only caught snatches of what the squeaky voices were saying. “Welcome to—” “—like something to—” “—tonight’s chocolate cake—” “—would Sirs like—” 

Remus knew what house elves were, but he’d never actually met any before. He glanced at his friends and saw that Peter seemed as bewildered as he felt. James and Sirius, on the other hand, were accustomed to them; they had grown up with one or two in their homes. Remus saw that Sirius had chosen to focus on just one house elf and ignored the others as he listened to the one. James simply gestured for silence with a finger to his lips. When the house elves closest to him did fall silent, James cleared his throat to gain the attention of those swarming around the other three.

“We were wondering,” James paused as the elves nearest Remus and Peter turned to look at him, “if you have any more of that delicious chocolate cake you served tonight.” 

“Yes, Sir!” several squeaked and ran off. 

“Would Sirs like some cold milk to drink with their cake?” one elf asked.

“Yes, please,” James said as he took a seat on the bench beside Sirius. “Stephen says that when Gryffindor plays Ravenclaw next week, I can help him get food for the victory party after. They’ll give us whatever we want, as much as we want.” 

House elves were busy setting the table. One with tufts of white hair growing out of his ears said, “If Sirs would like food for a party, we would be glad to deliver it to your Common Room. Just tell Rugger what you would like and when you want it to arrive.”

“Which one is Rugger?” Sirius asked.

“I is Rugger, Sir.” 

“Thanks, Rugger,” James said as he patted the elf on the shoulder. “We’ll get back to you on that.”

Just then, four plates, each with an enormous slice of chocolate cake, were placed upon the table. “Perfect,” Sirius said and picked up his fork. 

Remus knew there was no escaping this time. _“Just pretend it’s brown bread,”_ Remus told himself as he used his fork to cut off a small piece without the fudgy icing. He found it wasn’t too bad; it was easy enough to wash the taste out of his mouth with large gulps of milk.

Half of his attention was on a story Sirius was telling about an expensive box of chocolates that his father had given his mother. For almost a week, the box had sat unopened upon a table in the drawing room while Sirius and Regulus schemed about how they might be able to get some of chocolates once the box was opened. 

“You aren’t eating the icing, Remus,” Peter noted. “It’s the best part.” He licked some off his fork as if to prove the point.

Remus smiled weakly. “Just saving the best for last.” There was no avoiding it. He’d have to eat some of the sticky sweet mud, but perhaps he could just smear most of it around on his plate. He put one large forkful into his mouth and felt it spread over his tongue. He quickly gulped down some milk, but this time it did little good. The sickening sweetness couldn’t be washed away. He managed one more forkful before methodically smashing what was left of the cake into a muddy mess on his plate.

As he wiped some of the icing off his lower lip, he wondered if he could get away with wiping it off his tongue as well, but he glanced up to see Sirius staring back at him. “Are you OK? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“I’m fine,” Remus lied. He could already feel his stomach rolling in disgust; did it have to look like shit? “I’m just not very hungry.”

“OK,” Sirius said dismissively, as if he didn’t believe him but didn’t feel like arguing. He turned back to James and continued the story he’d been telling. “And I was amazed. I mean, my mother never does anything nice for _anyone_ , and she’d never shown the slightest sign of liking animals before, but here she was feeding these expensive chocolates to my aunt’s dog. All I could think was that she was angry at my father and this was her way of refusing the gift. That, and it was totally unfair of her not to let Regulus and me have any.”

Remus was feeling more nauseous by the moment. He tried not to think of the chocolate in his stomach, but he could smell the smashed cake on his plate. Just then an attentive house-elf brought a second slice to Peter; Remus looked away from it and back to Sirius.

“Next thing I know, the dog is vomiting all over the carpet.”

“Gross!” James exclaimed, but with a big smile.

“And Mother said, ‘Oh dear, I _forgot_ that chocolate is poisonous to dogs. I do hope he’ll be all right.’”

“She made it sick on purpose?” James asked in surprise.

Remus didn’t stay to hear any more; he was already running for the nearest sink to vomit.

“Yuck!” and “Gross!” his friends exclaimed somewhere behind him. 

A house-elf brought Remus a damp towel to wipe his face and a glass of water to rinse his mouth. “Don’t worry, Sir. We will clean up,” the house-elf assured Remus when he tried to rinse out the sink. 

Remus nodded weakly. “Thanks.”

James laughed as Remus walked back to the table. “You have _got_ to have the weakest stomach _ever_ if just hearing the word vomit makes you lose it.”

“Peter almost lost it when you did,” Sirius added with a smirk.

Peter did look as if he were feeling almost as nauseaous as Remus felt. “I can’t help it,” Peter said through the hand clamped over his mouth. “It sounds disgusting.”

“I’m not feeling very well,” Remus said. “I think I’m going to go see Madam Pomfrey.”

“Again?” Sirius asked.

Remus didn’t reply. After all, what was there to say?

 

When Remus entered the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey was administering a potion to student with long curly hair growing from his ears and nostrils. The student seemed to have a bit of difficulty getting the goblet through the nostril hair to his mouth, but finally managed to swallow the dose of potion.

“Now just sit down and wait a minute,” the matron instructed the student. “Then you should be able to pull all the hair out.” She turned to Remus waiting patiently by the wall. “Lupin. I wasn’t expecting to see you back so soon—you look a bit pale. What seems to be the problem?” she asked as she put the back of her hand against his forehead and then pulled his lower eyelids down to peer at the whites of his eyes.

“Um—” Remus looked over at the other student who was tugging uselessly at the hair cascading out of his ears and down his shoulders.

“Oh, should we discuss this in private?” Madam Pomfrey asked, and Remus nodded gratefully. “Now, Remus, what seems to be wrong?” she asked once they had withdrawn to a safe distance from the other student.

“I ate chocolate,” Remus said quietly.

Madam Pomfrey waited expectantly. “And?”

“I got sick from it,” he added.

“How much did you eat?” she asked with an amused smile.

“A bit more than half a slice of cake, I guess. And some of the frosting,” he added.

“Well, that’s hardly enough food to make someone vomit. Perhaps you’re coming down with something.” She felt his forehead again as she spoke. 

“But it was _chocolate_ ,” Remus said again, “and Sirius said that chocolate makes dogs sick, so I thought—you know—that was the reason.”

Madam Pomfrey suddenly frowned in concern. “And why was Sirius talking about chocolate making dogs sick? He doesn’t suspect does he?”

Remus, who had been feeling steadily better since he threw up, suddenly felt his stomach take a slight lurch. “I don’t think so. I think it was just coincidence. He was just telling a story about a dog he knew. He said it _before_ I threw up, so I don’t think he said it because of me.”

“Oh—” and then she smiled. “And did he use particularly vivid and descriptive imagery trying to make you throw up? It does sound like the sort of thing Mr. Black would do.”

Remus shook his head. He glanced over his shoulder at the other student. He was not close enough to eavesdrop, nor had he completely pulled all the hair from his ears. “So, I’m not poisoned by the chocolate? That’s what I need to know.”

“I wouldn’t think so. Your physiology is primarily human. Even if you’d eaten chocolate during a full moon, it would take extremely large amounts of chocolate to harm a canine as large as you become. You haven’t had trouble when you ate chocolate before, have you?”

Remus shrugged. “I try to avoid it; I don’t like it much.”

“So why did you eat it tonight?” she asked with a smile.

“I had to. They would have noticed if I didn’t have any.” Madam Pomfrey still appeared puzzled, so Remus added, “I have to do whatever humans do if I want to fit in.”

“Not all humans like chocolate, Remus,” she said in surprise.

“They don't? Oh good,” he said in relief. “My friends all like it, so I didn’t know. But if you think I can get away with disliking it, no more chocolate for me.”

“Are you eating any other foods you dislike?”

“A few, but the worst ones are off the list now.”

“Remus,” she put her hands on his shoulders and looked at him with a serious expression, “there are _no_ foods that _everyone_ likes. Each person’s tastes are different. You can refuse any food served in this school if you dislike it, and no one will suspect a thing because you did. All right?”

Remus nodded.

“Madam Pomfrey,” the other student called out. “It’s all out now. May I go back to my common room?”

“Yes, Sinclair, go right ahead. And next time, don’t offer to test your friends’ potion experiments. And as for you,” her gaze returned to Remus’s face, “if you have any questions about how to fit in, ask me. Or ask Professor McGonagall or Headmaster Dumbledore. We all want you to succeed here, Remus.”

Remus nodded again. “Thank you.”

 

When Remus returned to the Gryffindor Common Room, he spotted his friends at a table near the window playing chess, but it wasn’t immediately apparent which two were playing and who was watching. Remus didn’t want to deal with any questions—or teasing—about his earlier behaviour, so he went straight upstairs to the dormitory. He thought that if he was already in his pyjamas when the others came upstairs, they might assume he still wasn’t feeling well and go easier on him. He could do his homework sitting in bed just as easily as sitting downstairs.

He started to throw his jumper on the bed, but halted in mid-motion when he saw a small white bag sitting there on the centre of the bed. He poked it with his wand—a wise precaution with his dorm mates—and then opened the bag carefully. Small, bright yellow sweets filled the bag.

“Lemon drops,” Sirius said from the doorway. “Peter says that he likes them when his stomach’s upset, and I had some leftover from the train.”

“Thank you,” Remus said. He wondered if he should eat one, or if it would just make him feel worse. “But I don’t care for sweets much.” He held out the open bag, and Sirius came closer and took one.

“I noticed.” Remus looked up sharply into Sirius’s eyes. “I mean, I noticed on the train that you didn’t eat much of what we bought.”

Remus decided that as long as he was confessing, “And I _hate_ chocolate.”

“Then why did you eat chocolate cake, you idiot?” Sirius asked with a grin.

Remus shrugged. “Giving it one last try, I guess.” He sat down on his bed, and Sirius sat on his own neighbouring one. “But that was the _last_ time I eat chocolate.”

“Which was worse, going down or coming back up?” Sirius asked still grinning.

“Don’t remind me.” Remus took one lemon drop from the bag and looked at it doubtfully.

“Peter says it works,” Sirius said, so Remus put it in his mouth. 

_"It's not too bad,"_ he thought. The sweetness was amply balanced by the tartness. He’d never get into a habit of sucking on these, but Peter had been right. It did seem to calm his stomach—and it definitely overwhelmed the faint sourness which had lingered in his mouth since he’d vomited.

"You're a strange one, Remus," Sirius said with a grin as he slid off his bed and headed out of the dormitory. "Feel better, yeah?"

"Yeah. Thanks." But Sirius was already out of sight.

_\--written january 2007_


End file.
